I want to thank Merpmeow for both Keaton and Suri!


Keaton Booker, 13, POV


The only sound in the empty factory is when Vishon's hammer hits the nail.

He groans when he realises how much work he has left.

"Why are you even here?" I ask.

"I didn't meet my quota today." he says. "If they notice it tomorrow i'm basically dead. What are you doing here then?"

"I like the silence." I answer. No one really cares to check the factories at night, so I was guaranteed to be alone. Of course, if someone found me here I would be in trouble but it's worth the risk. Normally it is just me here, sitting on a train and writing in my notebook, but tonight another boy joined me. I don't know him, but I decided to keep him company while he is working.

"Yeah, just sit there and boast about your freedom." Vishon muttered.

"Should I go?" I ask.

He stays silent a short time before answering:

"Actually, no. I don't want to be alone in here."

I simply nod and scratches a few lines in my notebook.

"What are you writing?" he says.

"It's a story about if the the living victors competed in the 75th Hunger Games." I respond. "I like it so far, especially the parts with Katniss and Peeta."

Vishon chuckles.

"That would certainly be interesting to see. How does it end?" he says.

"When it is like six tributes left the rebels destroys the arena and rescues them."

"Well, then you need to be careful if a peacekeeper gets his hands on that." Vishon warns. "The regime doesn't take lightly on rebel propaganda."

"I am aware of that."

We are silent for a few minutes before Vishon tries to strike up another conversation.

"How are your parents?" he asks.

"Badly. We didn't get to eat yesterday." I answer.

"Any friends?"

"Nope."

"Why do you have a scar on your hand?"

"How did you notice?" I say and look at the palm of my hand. A small scar, that I honestly doesn't know why I got it.

Vishon smiles. "After a few years you learn a thing and two about your sight."

"Do you? I am 13, and I am basiclly blind. Hell, I didn't notice the scar before I was seven!" I exclaim.

He bursts in even greater laughter and I smile.

"I need to go home now. So, bye." I say.

Vishon waves me goodbye, and with a sigh continues with his work.


Suri Lizbeth, 16, POV

Yesterday


The air is so filled with pollution that I can hardly breath.

My vehicle is only half finished, but I couldn't care less. I'll be gone tomorrow anyway and I will probably be dead in a few weeks. But if everything goes well there won't be a 97th Hunger Games. If I win, it will just be a bonus. A skinny boy, it looks like he is at least 15, takes the place besides me. I ignore him.

When he shows me the biscuit with the mockingjay I react.

If you asked around in the districts a lot of people would say that the idea of the mockingjay is dead. But we don't think so. Hope cannot die. And so thinks most of District 6.

"When did you join?" I ask.

"Last week." he responds. "Kara wants the stolen rifles to be moved. The peacekeepers found the other stash yesterday."

This is how we talk in the rebel group. In the loud factories no one can hear a whisper or two, and hiding in plain sight is a valid strategy. But we can't still go around in large groups. It is too suspicious. That's why we use owls. They are members who constantly rotates between the higher ups, delivering and receiving messages. It is really slow, but safe.

"Affirmative. What about my question?" I say. I had sended an owl to Kara for around an hour ago asking about our tries to contact the Last Victor.

"She said that we have tried, but has only gotten cryptic answers." he says. "It boils down to a date and a time."

"So they are in?"

"What we have interpreted, they are in." the boy responds. The answer fills me with new hope. Everyone in the districts admires the Last Victor, and with them on our side a rebellion is certain to happen.

The boy stays around after delivering the messages, to my confusion.

"I have no messages. You can go." I say.

The boy clears his throat.

"I just wonder… is it true?" he asks.

"What?" I say.

"You know, that you will volunteer."

"Someone's gotta do it. The Hunger Games is the best way to create a spark. It is broadcasted to all of Panem and shows the pinnacle of the Capitals cruelty. The districts are closer than ever to a rebellion, even closer than the time Katniss won the game. We just need someone to rally behind." I respond.

"But you will probably die. They will kill you the moment you reveal your intentions."

"If I play smart they won't. Symbols subtle enough for the enraged districts to pick up, but will fly over the capitols head. I am the best at combat in our group, at least those who are Reaping eligible. I can win."

"Okay."

When the boy leave I can see that he is relieved, and that makes me even more scared. Truth is that my plans will never be subtle enough to lure the capitol. I won't make it out of the arena. But I can't say that to boys like him. Morale is something we can never have enough off. I want to believe that I don't care about dying, that I am doing it for the cause. But then I would be lying. I am scared like hell and I don't want to die. But I know the sacrifice I need to make. The rebellion was and will always be my family, and I wont dissapoint them.


Keaton Booker POV


"Keaton Booker!" Yotoh announces.

I can hardly breath, and it's not because of the air. I got chosen. I really got chosen. With the thousands of names my chances to be picked would be minimal. But I did get chosen.

I just want to crawl into a ball and cry. With heavy steps I start to walk towards to the stage. I am on the brink of crying. This will not look good at the cameras.

I take my place besides the girl. She volunteered, which surprised everyone. District 6 haven't had a volunteer in like forever. The girl has her black hair cut in a bob and is looking ferocious. I will probably be her first kill.

Our escort Yotoh seems to be more worried than excited. Her eyes flicker over masses, constantly searching for something. She probably is expecting another rebel attack. The Last Victor attacked the Reaping in District 2 I heard. It doesn't help that she is standing next to the destroyed Justice Hall. I can see that she has badly tried to cover up her red skin with an ash grey color, like some sort of camouflage. It would be laughable if I wouldn't be brutally slaughter next week.

We shake hands, and Suri is surprisingly soft. Like she is pitying me. At least she isn't hellbent on killing me. Great, only 22 other tributes to worry about.

Justice Hall

The room I am sitting in is h destroyed. I could just step over the wall and run away. But I know peacekeepers will be stationed around the building. Still, fresh air is refreshing, even if it is polluted.

My first visitor is my family. After a lot of hugging and crying I finally find my words.

"I'm not going to make it." I say.

"Don't say that!" my mother says with shaking voice.

"It's true. I am thirteen and skinny. I can't win." I respond.

"Don't give up yet son." my father says. "You have lived your life starving, and I am so sorry for that. But you never gave up. You can win. Please."

"I won't give up." I say. "But don't expect too much."

The peacekeeper announces that the three minutes are up, and my father quickly puts something in my hand. A pen. Just a simple pen. But it doesn't matter. It's my token, and it is a reminder for everything I have back home. The peacekeepers drag my parents out of the room as I am left alone. I can't see how I can win, but I will try. I am not the guy who gives up.


Suri Lizbeth POV


Kara is the only one who visits me.

They can't send anyone else, or it would be too suspicious. But out of all the rebels, I like Kara the most. She puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" she asks.

"A bit too late to change." I answer.

"I guess so." she says. "Try to stay alive."

"They won't let me live after I have started the rebellion."

"I wish we could have done it another way." she says. "But it was your idea, and it will work. We will avenge you."

"Thanks." I say and feel a tear on my cheek.

"At last, your token." she says and takes up a necklace. At the end there is a glass octagon, filled with some sort of black liquid.

"Motor fuel. The glass is the same sort we make trains off, so it is basically unbreakable. The gamemakers won't suspect anything. But if you turn the glass one time to the right and two times to the left, it will open. Let's just say motor fuel is far from healthy for your stomach." she says and leaves the room.


A/N: The next chapter will be little different, as it won't be a reaping but will instead advance the plot. Technically it is already finished but I am not satisfied with, and will probably rewrite it. So expect it to be out soonish.

After that I will write the District 12 Reaping, so stay tuned!